


Top of the List

by timeespaceandpixiedust



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby Week 2019, Canon Compliant, F/F, It's mostly just fluff, meet the parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19836451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeespaceandpixiedust/pseuds/timeespaceandpixiedust
Summary: When Kali is gone, Blake bumps her hip against Yang. “Told you she’d like you.”“Yeah, yeah,” Yang mutters. “We have a lot of days to go, Belladonna.”Day 2 of Bumbleby week 2019—Meet the Parents





	Top of the List

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this got slightly out of hand but here's what will probably be my only submission for Bumbleby week 2019. This fic was fun to write so I hope you enjoy!

Going to the island was a necessity. Staying with her parents, well that part Blake had volunteered. The offering had slipped out before she could censor the suggestion, grasp the implications for what they were. Not to say she wasn’t thrilled to see her parents again, but in a house still impacted by fire damage and the combined energy of her teammates, Blake was a little concerned just how this week would go.

Qrow had been insistent on coming with them until Ruby had gripped his shoulder firmly and told him that they could handle a couple of meetings on their own. His eyes had slipped back and forth from Yang to Ruby as if looking for physical signs to show this is true. In the end, he drops them off to the pre-arranged airship and hugs Ruby a little extra tight before letting them go. 

In reality, Menagerie was probably one of the safest places in Remnant right now. The island and its lack of relics or maidens kept it a seemingly small target, especially with the threat of the White Fang now eradicated. Of all of their missions, this was probably the first in a while now that didn’t deserve a warning label for probable death.

The nervous energy stirring between her and Yang suggests otherwise. 

After the battle at Haven, things had been chaotic and fast-moving. Blake’s parents barely had time to hug her goodbye before they were off on urgent business for her father to attend to. They kept in touch. Blake made a point to text or call them periodically, fill them in on what she was up to, give them the basics of the missions they were on.

Her dad asked questions about the monsters they fought, the places they were going, the people she was with. Her mom wanted to know more about her friends, asked how she was sleeping and eating. Even with them so far away, Blake feels like they’re watching over her, just a little bit. Though now is well past a time that is necessary, after so many years without it, the obviousness in their caring is nice in its own way.

From the moment they land, Ruby is bouncing with enthusiasm. She darts in flashes of rose petals between stands, pointing out exotic fruits, homemade crafts, and jewelry with unbridled excitement. Weiss follows behind at a slower pace, fingers drifting over the pieces she finds the prettiest and calling after Ruby to “Calm herself.”

Yang hangs back beside Blake, finding an easy pace that they wander through the market together. Her eyes are everywhere, neck twisting around as she takes it all in. She pulls her jacket off halfway through, letting the sun soak into her bare arms. 

Blake swallows, forcing her eyes away. “Not bad, right?”

Yang looks to her with eyebrows raised, shelling out lien for a tropical smoothie, pineapple slice stuck on the side of the cup. “You’re kidding me, Belladonna,” she drawls, drawing up thick liquid through her straw and passing it off in an offering to Blake. “You weren’t wrong—it’s crowded for sure. Beautiful, though. Gives off more tropical vacation vibes than Patch ever did.”

A breeze is carried in along the waves, umbrellas and flags tremble as it blows through, Yang’s hair swirling up around them in bright clouds of yellow. Blake doesn’t quite bite back a giggle as the tips of it graze across her face, dancing under her nose and along her cheeks. She brushes it away, and it settles with the wind. Yang’s arms stretch lazily overhead as she yawns, plucking the drink back out of Blake’s hand. “That’s it,” she declares. “We’re just going to stay here.”

“Oh?” Blake asks, well aware that _we_ doesn’t mean anything but feeling the stir in her stomach that the word causes. “Are we now?”

There’s a hint of mischievousness in Yang’s smile when she turns to Blake, lips quirking and eyes light and teasing. Their steps falter, and Blake’s breath catches in her throat as Yang leans slightly closer, her presence demanding acknowledgment in its entirety. 

The words are on the tip of Yang’s tongue, a comeback dying on the ends of her lips as Ruby calls out, “Blake!” and comes darting over, a new baseball cap on her head and one of the island’s famous coconut cookies in hand. “Is that your _house_ at the top of the hill?” 

“Yes,” Blake says, smiling shyly as she looks to Yang with an unexpected rush of worry bursting through her. 

Whatever Yang was about to say dies there and instead she shoots Blake a curious look before following Ruby up over the crest of the hill and pausing as she stares down at the sight before her. 

“And to think this whole time we’ve been calling Weiss the princess,” Yang says with a low whistle, glancing over her shoulder to find Blake approaching. “That’s one hell of a mansion you got there.”

  
Weiss comes to stand at Blake’s other side, looking down at her house with little reaction. She’d been battling Yang for who had the strongest grasp on nervous energy as she openly debated whether or not a Schnee should dare set foot in Menagerie. And well, after the amount of abuse Blake had dealt with during the short time they had been in Atlas so far, she could see why Weiss might be hesitant. 

Blake doesn’t bother with a response, setting off for the trail with steady steps towards the front door. It wasn’t long ago that she was making the very same trip with Sun on her heels, a nervous stumbling of a rhythm in her chest and a quiver in her stomach. She knocked on the door and firmly expected to be turned away. Instead, they had welcomed her with open arms, with relief, with happiness. 

There’s a hope that her parents will feel the same way towards her teammates. Yang’s anxiety over that very concept is almost palpable when she doesn’t actively put in the effort to hide it away. 

Before she’s even finished knocking, the door flies open. Her mom sweeps Blake into a hug in an instant, hand smoothing down Blake’s hair before pulling away and cupping her face. “It’s so good to see you,” she says softly. “And you’ve cut your hair!” Kali’s fingers touch the ends of the strands tenderly, holding Blake’s gaze a moment longer before dropping her hands and turning with a wide smile towards her team. “And it is wonderful to finally get a chance to meet your teammates.”

“I’m Ruby!” Ruby jumps in first, popping the rest of her cookie in her mouth to offer her right hand out, crumbs tumbling from the corner of her mouth. “Your island’s cookies are delicious.”

Kali smiles, taking Ruby’s handshake as she says, “You ought to try my recipe while you’re here.”

Ruby nods with enthusiasm. “That sounds like a good idea to me!”

Weiss’ gaze darts on the porch floorboards beneath their feet, shifting her weight before looking up and uncrossing her arms to offer a handshake of her own. “I’m Weiss,” she says, voice hesitant in a way Blake is unadjusted to hearing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

“You should’ve seen it before my daughter set fire to it,” Kali responds with a wink and returning Weiss’s tentative smile. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Weiss. My daughter has told me nothing but wonderful things.”

Weiss’ eyes cut to Blake in surprise. Blake offers a shrug. It wasn’t like she called her parents to rag on her teammates every night, geez. 

“And you must be Yang,” Kali says to Yang who stands half a step behind Blake, teeth digging into her lip.

“Yes, uh, ma’am,” she chokes out in response. Blake’s eyebrows shoot up. She had never seen Yang nervous before, not like this. The air of confidence that normally surrounded her was suddenly missing, trepidation blanketing her in its place. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kali smiles with a softness, reaching out to place a hand on Yang’s shoulder, undoubtedly reading Yang’s nerves herself but refraining from comment. “Why don’t you come inside. I’ll go find your father while you show your friends where to put their things, Blake.”

Due to remaining reconstruction, sections of the house were still closed off, leaving only two of the guest rooms open.

Ruby and Weiss throw their bags in the first one without question. Yang trails closely behind Blake down the hall to the other room, duffel bag hitting the floor with a heavy smack as she unceremoniously drops it from her shoulder. 

“Did you really just say yes ma’am to my mother?” Blake asks, holding back a laugh as she watches Yang with a raised eyebrow. “Are you gonna salute my dad?”

“Shh!” Yang hushes her with urgency. “I don’t do parents, okay?” 

Which, okay, there are a few different ways Blake could respond here, but she settles for reaching out and taking Yang’s hand. It was their go-to when they weren’t quite sure what to say otherwise these days. “They don’t bite,” Blake says, edging towards humor as she could feel Yang’s tension rising. “Occasional purring just comes with the territory,” she quips just for the sake of how Yang’s face splits in a smile as she pushes Blake’s shoulder and laughs.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” she says with ease. 

“There’s the charm my parents will undoubtedly be won over by.”

The laughter dims, the air around them growing thick as they realize how close they are, Blake’s fingers resting on the edge of Yang’s jaw. Yang’s hand still pressed against Blake’s shoulder as her fingers tense minimally. “Works pretty well on you,” Yang says quietly, the sort of gentleness to her voice that makes Blake swear they have always been here—they have existed in this moment, in this closeness for a hundred years, and it had still yet to be enough. 

“If you two are finished,” Weiss states from the doorway, shoulder leaning against the door frame as she looks in on them, “we should really get downstairs before Ruby eats all of the food again.”

“Did she just wander off?” Yang asks, rolling her eyes. “Clearly I didn’t ingrain basic manners in her well enough.”

“My mom probably found her and is halfway through baking a batch of cookies,” Blake jokes trying to ignore the familiar jab of hurt that she experiences when Yang mentions her childhood, when she talks so flippantly of raising Ruby. 

Weiss comes into the room, grabbing Yang by the shoulders and pushing her in front of her, towards the stairs. “What the hell are you doing!” Yang grumbles, trying to push Weiss off of her. 

“You’re my buffer!” Weiss declares in a whisper loud enough to be heard through the entire house. “No one’s going to care that I’m a Schnee when you’re the one kissing their daughter.”

“Not if you keep interrupting us,” Blake says under her breath as she trails behind them to the kitchen where she hears her mom and Ruby chatting away.

Before getting far, her dad comes up behind and pulls her in a tight hug lifting her right off her feet and squeezing. “It’s so good to see you again.” Blake lets him hug her, allows for the fierce affection because she’s gotten to grasp an appreciation of what it means to fear you won’t see someone again, to wonder if they’ll be okay. “Did you bring the monkey boy again?”

Blake rolls her eyes as he sets her down. “No, Dad. Sun didn’t tag along this time.”

“Good,” he says, but he winks in her direction so she knows he isn’t too serious. “Your friends are here, right? I’m sure your mother is feeding them.”

“Oh I’m sure she wasn’t shut down,” Blake chuckles, swinging open the door to the kitchen where, unsurprisingly, Ruby hovers over the stove, being fed sample bites right out of the wok. Weiss stands hesitantly with one hip leaning against the gray granite island in the middle of the kitchen, the overhead lights glinting off of the silver bracelet on her wrist. Yang stands just by the door like she’s bracing for a quick escape.

“Oh my god, Blake!” Ruby says, eyes wide as she licks her lips. “Have you ever tried this before? It’s _amazing._ ”

“My mom’s cooking? Oh, just once or twice.”

Yang laughs in response, drawing Ghira’s attention to her. He smiles wide in response and, without a moment’s hesitation, pulls Yang into a hug as well. “It’s so nice to meet you, Yang,” he says, not quite hugging her tight enough to lift her like he had Blake, but a little closer than Blake thinks is probably appropriate for someone he’s just met.

“Dad, seriously.”

“Right,” he drops his arms from Yang, eyes falling to her metal arm that moves up to allow her right hand to run along the back of her neck. Ruby darts right over and hugs him first. 

Yang and Blake exchange a look, rolling their eyes. “My parents were a little excited to meet you guys,” Blake whispers. Weiss offers a hand to shake before Ghira has a chance to hug her too. 

Yang raises an eyebrow, momentarily glancing towards the plates of food laid out on countertops, the baked goods set out to cool on the breakfast table, and the broad smiles both of Blake’s parents wear. “What gave you that idea?” she asks, and she’s close enough that Blake can lightly push against her shoulder which she does, fingers itching to take hold of her hand but fighting back the impulse.

This was going to be one hell of a week.  


//

Yang and Blake lay on her bedroom floor, legs sticking out in opposite direction but faces turned towards each other, only an inch separating them. It’s not quite dinner time. They’d been sent to unpack, to “get themselves settled” in a place they wouldn’t have any time to settle into before it was off to the next mission, on to the next battle. That was how they lived these days. There was no settling when the world could end at any given moment.

So there’s a lack of motivation to put anything in a drawer. The heat is making them sleepy by mid-afternoon, and Blake is just too tempted by the plush carpet and the concept of Yang beside her to fight it off for the sake of hanging her four articles of clothing in the closet. 

“Your parents are nice,” Yang comments after some time, breaking the silence that had previously been filled by their hands bumping into each other, finger lacing together, thumbs ghosting over knuckles. A hesitation still danced between them, a certainty not yet settled. The fear had vanished though, worry drifting out with a gust and excitement rolling in with a breeze. They knew where this was going. Neither of them had any interest in stopping the forward momentum. 

Blake shrugs. “They were excited to meet you guys.” There were a lot of things she had told her parents, but even more she’d withheld. Even still, her mom seemed more than aware of how Blake valued her team members. Blake had caught both of her parents looking at Yang’s metal arm more than once, and she knows they have questions about how she ended up with it. Maybe they worry that next time their daughter comes home, she’ll be sporting her own metal limb replacement.

Blake grabs Yang’s right hand now, reaching back very intentionally so she can grab it. Yang laughs as Blake pulls it towards her. “What are you doing?” she asks, giggling filtering her words as she moves, twisting around until she’s sitting on her knees, leaning over Blake. Blake lifts her head, letting it fall on one of Yang’s legs, hands still twisted together. 

“Mm,” Blake finds herself humming without meaning to. The moment causes her eyes to drift shut. If left like this long enough, she’s sure she could drift off to sleep. When her eyes open, Yang’s taking up her vision, hair swaying as she leans closer, eyes amused and light today, only the lightest of lilac regarding her. “Hi,” Blake says, smile spreading across her face that she does nothing to bite back.

Yang’s beautiful as her shoulders rock with light laughter, head shaking down at Blake. “Hi.” There’s a touch of disbelief buried in her gaze, a hint of shock tucked within her smile. Neither of them can quite understand how they got to where they are. Both of them push further still to where they are headed. Yang laughs again.

“What?” Blake demands in response, eyes wide and smile still tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Nothing!” Yang argues though it’s through a giggle that doesn’t quite go away and only builds, making it not terribly convincing.

“What is so funny, Xiao Long?” Blake pushes herself up, arms crossing over her chest as she does her best to look stern. 

“You’re just so _cute_ ,” Yang finally says, unable to refrain the adoring look she’s shooting towards Blake or the lightness of her tone, the weight of the colloquialism sent Blake’s way. 

The first thing Blake’s fingers close around is what she uses to swat against Yang’s arm. “Shut up.” But Yang just laughs, doesn’t even move to bat the sweatshirt whooshing past her away. She’s too busy looking at Blake, eyes scrunching up at the sides. “Oh, cut it out already.” This time she swings the shirt right past Yang’s face, causing her to sputter and breaking her smirk, nose wrinkling against the assault. 

“Hey!” Yang calls out when Blake does it again. “Over here trying to _compliment_ you, and this is how I’m treated.” One more time and then Yang is launching towards Blake, fingers dancing on the edge of Blake’s ribs, running along her stomach, ghosting over her arms. 

All it takes is the simple idea of tickling and Blake is shrieking, something which Yang takes to her advantage. She chuckles right along with Blake’s unbridled peels of laughter combined with her occasional screech for help. 

Blake falls back on the floor, desperately squirming away to no avail. Yang straddles right over top of her, holding her in place as fingertips slide up and down Blake’s sides. Blake uses the right side of her body and a momentary lapse in concentration on Yang’s end to flip them over, sending Yang crashing against the floor. 

“You asshole,” she says, but she’s laughing even harder, face red, whole body shaking against Blake. “I’m going to-”

“Girls,” Blake’s mom is knocking against the still halfway opened door, poking her head in. Her eyebrow rises for a fraction of a second before settling back into place and throwing them both a smile. “Sorry to interrupt what is clearly some very productive time, but dinner is ready.”

Yang disentangles immediately, all but throwing Blake across the room to get her off of her as she clears her throat. “Thank you,” she squeaks as the door is pulled shut.

“That’s what you get for tickling me.”

//

Weiss is the first to offer to do the dishes as soon as dinner is over. Yang volunteers next.

It doesn’t take long for it to turn into the four of them crammed into what is usually a large kitchen, suddenly cramped and close. “Guys, chill out,” Blake says as she scoops the remaining veggies into tupperware. “My parents aren’t like, actual royalty.”

“Weiss is worried ‘cause of the whole Faunus thing,” Ruby needlessly explains in between bites of yet another cookie. “Yang is freaking out ‘cause she doesn’t want your parents to hate her since it’ll make the wedding awkward.”

“Shut, and I say this with the greatest degree of sincerity,” Yang glances over her shoulder, “the _fuck_ up.”

Ruby sticks out her tongue in response, and Weiss flicks her with water from the sink. It’s immature and childish and so incredibly needed. Blake ruffles Ruby’s hair, plucking the next cookie already clutched between her fingers out of her hands and eating half the thing in one bite. “My parents are happy you guys are here,” Blake reiterates, making sure Weiss is looking at her when she says it. “Stop worrying.”

Originally, Blake had been so concerned about her parents being weird that she hadn’t even considered how her friends might be. 

Weiss had been off since they landed in Atlas, both in general and around Blake. The night of the ball hadn’t helped things with the guards turning Blake away and the doors shutting in her face. Then the next week when they’d been mocked in the streets, someone throwing half-eaten food in Blake’s direction. Of the team, Blake and Weiss were definitely not the closest and the chasm that was created the night Weiss discovered Blake was a Faunus and had a less than positive reaction over it had no doubt attributed to it. As time passed recently, though, Blake could feel the bridge connecting them. It didn’t have to remain a degree of separation between them; she no longer wanted that to exist as a barrier. 

It seemed clear Weiss didn’t either, at least through Blake’s perception, but she didn’t know how to make amends with the ideals she’d grown up believing and the blood that had given her life along with the truth she now held dear. 

“I just hope they know-”

“They do,” Blake cuts Weiss off, placing a hand on her shoulder and trying to offer the same comfort Weiss had that night in Atlas. 

The smile in response is small but pleasant before Weiss turns back towards the sink, hands disappearing once again into the soapy water. “And for the record,” Weiss declares as she passes Ruby a dripping casserole dish to dry, “I would offer to clean up after dinner regardless.”

“No one’s taking your pearls, Emily Post,” Yang comments dryly, dishcloth running over the granite. “No need to panic.”

The banter is familiar; it follows them the whole way through cleaning up, coats the kitchen in light and laughter and ease. The world is heavy, the weight of it often feels like it was solely on their shoulders, ready to crush them beneath. Somewhere along the way, the four of them manage to work together and help lighten the load.

//

Yang’s gone in the morning when Blake wakes up. The light streaming through the curtains is still low and dim, suggesting it was quite early in the morning. When she gets downstairs, it’s just Yang and her mom sitting in the living room with coffee cups clutched in hand. 

“Morning,” she says, cheeks unexpectedly reddening just when Yang so much as turns and looks at her. Yang’s hair is still haphazard, pajamas on with her bare feet tucked beneath her on the couch. “Everyone else still asleep?” Blake yawns, reaching forward to steal a piece off of the half-finished muffin sitting in front of Yang. 

“Ruby was up late trying to figure out our strategy for today,” Yang answers. “Which I’m sure means Weiss was too.”

There’s not much space, but Blake fits herself between the arm of the couch and where Yang’s sitting, laughing as her body slips into the area just barely, Yang getting pushed aside in the process. 

Kali’s smiling at them both when Blake looks back up. “Yang and I were just talking about some of what you have all been up to.” Her eyebrows draw together in concern and Blake wonders which pieces Yang has been offering. Though Yang knew how to keep her cards close to her chest, she also could get to talking when nervous. “It sounds like the four of you really work well together.”

Blake and Yang exchange a look. “We try to,” Blake answers, unsure what to do with her mom’s comment. “Ruby is a great leader.” Yang immediately brightens with just a touch of pride.

When Blake’s mom smiles this time, it’s sadder, dimmer. She stands, runs a hand along Blake’s bedridden hair on her way back to the kitchen. “It’s nice to see,” she says and Blake can only think of the last time she was here, away from her team and her friends. She can only think of the friends she’d had before them, of what life was like then, of how much it hurt. Things were so good now—a sort of good that scared her.

Even though she hasn’t really been close with her parents in years now, she can identify in her mom’s eyes just how much she understands, how much she _sees_ without it being right in front of her. There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of Blake’s head and a hand squeezing Yang’s shoulder as Kali offers a simple remark of, “It’s so nice to see you happy,” before walking away, the wood door to the kitchen swaying back and forth as it shuts behind her.

Blake looks to Yang, expecting to find that same nervousness that has existed these last couple of days or more tense energy. Instead, Yang is languid, easy and light as she smiles at Blake.

“Yes?” Blake prompts, feeling words existing between them but not quite come to life. She can almost identify it without Yang saying anything at all, but there’s doubt just at the edges and a question on the precipice.

Yang smiles wide, head falling to rest back against the couch as she looks lazily over at Blake and shrugs a shoulder. “She’s right,” Yang says, voice coated with a hint of sadness, joy just beneath. “Seeing you happy is everything.”

//

Their first meeting had gone less than fabulously. It ended just short of disaster, in fact. Ruby is muttering under her breath the whole way back, Crescent Rose open and clutched in her grip until they reach the main area, and Blake reminds her that open weapon carrying by a human wasn’t really popular around here. 

They have fought so hard already that every roadblock that remains on the way seems like a definitive end. It isn’t right that there should still be so much adversity for something that already felt impossible. 

They walk through the front doors of Blake’s house with no one there to greet them. Ruby kicks her boots off with a little too much force. Weiss sighs, taking the stairs with her head down. 

Blake’s dad appears initially with a, “Welcome back!” though his demeanor soon lessens upon evaluating his audience. “That bad?” 

Ruby groans, falling dramatically to the floor right in the entryway with her limbs splayed out like a starfish as she stares up at the ceiling. Yang kicks a foot half-heartedly against her thigh. “Get up.”

“It didn’t go great,” Blake tells her dad, shaking her head as Yang starts tugging on one of Ruby’s arms, trying to force her off of the floor. She grunts as the right side of Ruby’s body goes up, the left unmoving. Ruby starts giggling despite herself. “And we kind of needed it to. This was our in with everyone else we were hoping to get in contact with while we were here.”

“Sure it’s no one I can help with?” Ghira asks, eyes blinking at Ruby’s and Yang’s antics. “Your old man is kind of important, you know.”

Blake rolls her eyes, an unexpected rush of appreciation welling inside of her. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”

His hand is large and warm as it wraps around her shoulder and Blake doesn’t fight back the urge she has to hug him, grateful that the opportunity exists. “I was hoping you might say so,” he says, winking in Yang’s direction as he walks over, giving Ruby’s left side a tug. She gives a squeak of surprise as Ghira and Yang pull her off the floor and leave her standing on her feet. “Haven’t had a chance to do that since the last time Blake came home all dramatic.”

“Okay, Dad,” Blake says, grabbing Yang’s hand to pull her up the stairs with her. “We’ll get a list of names together for you!” She drags Yang upstairs before he can add on anything else, Ruby trailing behind them. 

Ruby perks up at the idea. “Okay, good. I really didn’t want to call Uncle Qrow and admit we’d kinda failed.” 

Yang nods, and Weiss appears in the doorway to her room. “I probably shouldn’t have gone,” she says, hands twisting. The Schnee name, and faces, weren’t exactly well received by just about any Faunus. “I’m sorry.”

Without missing a beat, Yang walks over and makes sure Weiss is looking at her when she says, “It’s not your fault, Weiss. You aren’t to blame for what your father’s done.”

“But I am to blame for that fact that our first contact barely even let us get a sentence out before recognizing me and walking away.” Her head drops, stance uneasy, and worry apparent. It’s not how they’re used to seeing Weiss. The vulnerability cloaks her differently.

It’s a feeling Blake is familiar with, one she knows she can relate with Weiss over. It’s not a relation that should work. Blake sympathized because she had been oppressed—belittled and hated simply for who she was born as. 

Weiss was hated because she was the daughter of one of the main oppressors. 

It shouldn’t work. “I get it. Too often it’s the things we can’t change that we get judged for the most.” But it does.

  


//

“It’s a shame you didn’t inherit your mom’s cooking skills,” Yang says after dinner that night when it’s just the two of them in the kitchen, dishes mostly finished. Yang sits on the countertop while Blake washes the remaining silverware cluttered at the bottom of the sink. “She could give Ren a run for his money.”

“Yeah well, the White Fang didn’t exactly offer home ec classes,” she says, an unexpected flash of guilt brewing from Yang’s words.

Yang’s feet hit the floor with a solid smack. “Hey, Blake. I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” she cuts her off. The hot water runs over her empty hands that shake from memories alone, from demons that are dead but still managed to slip back to life in the darkest moments. The water shuts off. Yang passes her a towel to dry her hands. “It’s so nice being home,” Blake says quietly, eyes skipping to the doorway as if her parents might have just appeared. “But it’s hard.”

A nod of agreement is Yang’s only response, waiting for Blake to continue. “I barely talked to them for six years. That first day I came home...a part of me was convinced they would turn me away.” There was no forgetting when her mom had first opened the door, body half obscured by it as first shock crossed her face. In that split second, Blake expected the giant, wooden door to come slamming back. Instead, her mom’s arms embraced her in an instant, not a single indication of anything outside of love found in her arms. “I know I had to have hurt them.”

Yang’s soft, placing a hand on Blake’s arm before gentle fingers catch her chin, tilting upward until Blake was looking right into Yang’s eyes. She smiles just from the tenderness of the moment alone. “But now you’re here,” Yang says. “Sure, maybe it hurt, but now they get to heal. When you love someone, that’s the part that really matters.”

The truth is reflected in Yang’s eyes, and Blake’s heart stutters in its rhythm, response dead on her tongue as the door goes swinging wide, her mom appearing with a tea set. Yang jumps away, hand falling from where it had been holding Blake’s face to dart back towards the remaining forks and knives in the sink. 

Kali looks between them, a curious look in her eye. “You two doing okay?” she asks, and Blake’s face reddens, but she remembers Yang’s words and doesn’t hold herself back from wrapping her arms around her mom’s neck, careful not to disturb the tray still in her hands.

“I love you,” she says quietly. She takes the tray from her hands and kisses her cheek. “We got it.”

Kali watches her with careful eyes before nodding. “Well, okay. I appreciate it.” She kisses Blake cheek as well as she says, “And I love you too.” She goes to leave before pausing, tracing the two steps back and standing on tiptoes to press a light kiss to Yang’s hairline as well. “It’s so nice having all of you here,” she says, Yang decisively not looking away from the spoon she’s scrubbing clean in the sink. 

When Kali is gone, Blake bumps her hip against Yang. “Told you she’d like you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yang mutters, the white noise of the faucet almost covering it up. “We have a lot of days to go, Belladonna.” 

It sounds like a promise.

//

The sand isn’t exactly helpful when it came to Weiss’s notes. She lets out a frustrated, “Ugh!” as she tried to wipe grains from the front page of her notebook. “ _How_ is this helpful to strategizing again?”

Yang turns towards Weiss, looking over the tops of her aviators as she answers. “Because we’re relaxed, and everyone knows a calm mind comes up with better ideas.”

Ruby’s burying her feet in the sand, butt only half on her beach towel as she keeps wriggling further in, covered up to her ankles. “Since when do we strategize?”

“We try to strategize,” Blake counters, letting her book drop. “It just...doesn’t work.”

“We strategize, and then everything goes to hell.” Weiss scribbles in her notebook. “And then we get a door shut in our face, or someone almost dies, or the entirety of humanity is one step closer to ending as we know it!” 

“Weiss,” Yang says, arm falling over her face and the edge of her fingers reaching across to graze along Blake’s bare shoulder. “You’re killing my beach vibes here.”

“We don’t have time for-”

A shadow appears over top of them, and they stare up, blinking at the person blocking the sun.

A man with blue, spiked up hair looks back at them, mouth set in a firm, flat line, circular chainsaw strapped to his back and dark pants and shirt on his body. It all didn’t exactly scream beach appropriate. 

The one thing that made him at least Menagerie appropriate, especially with that weapon tied to him, are the wings coming off of his arms, brown feathers a stark contrast against his electric blue hair. 

“Can we help you?” Blake drawls, eyes scanning over his crossed arms and lips set in a pout. There was something about his demeanor that didn’t read as friendly.

“Heard you all were lookin’ for Schmidt?”

“Oh, we found him,” Weiss mutters beneath her breath.

Yang sits up, pushes her sunglasses on top of her head, and lets her hand drop from Blake. “Why? What do you know?”

“Which one of you is Yang?” 

They exchange a look, Weiss’s eyebrows raising, Ruby’s shoulders shrugging, Blake sitting up a little straighter.

“That’d be me.”

A piece of paper is extended in his hand. “Here.”

“Who is that from?” Blake demands, eyes jumping from the note to Yang and back again. “Why are they asking for Yang?”

“Shit, man, I dunno,” he says. “Either take the note or don’t.”

Yang snatches it from his hand but doesn’t move to open it. “Thanks? I guess.”

He makes a non-committal groan as he turns to leave, not bothering to add on anything else.

“Well that was-”

“Weird,” Ruby cuts Weiss off, feet dug out of the sand as she pulls her knees beneath her to stare at Yang. “What does it say?” Her fingers twitch, like she’s eager to pull the note from Yang’s grasp and read it for herself.

Unfolding it, Yang reads silently at first, Ruby peering over her shoulder. Blake and Weiss stare back expectantly when she sets it back down. “It’s a number.”

“Ooh like GPS coordinates!” 

“Pretty sure that’s just a phone number, Ruby,” Blake says. “Is it Schmidt’s? Why does he want to talk to only you?”

With a shrug, Yang pulls her scroll out of the beach bag. “One way to find out.” On speaker, there’s nothing but a series of rings before an automated voice instructs them to leave a message after the tone. “Hey, um, this is Yang. I was told you wanted to speak to me so, like, call me back.”

“‘So, like, call me back’?” Weiss imitates. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“I don’t know!” Yang throws her scroll back in the bag and drops her sunglasses over her eyes again, laying back on her towel. “It’s not like Creeper McCreeperton told us anything helpful.”

It’s a pseudo form of relaxation, one that causes Weiss to huff and roll her eyes and Ruby to shrug her shoulders, but Blake eyes Yang. It’s hard to miss the teeth that dig into her bottom lip in thought, the shifting of her eyes beneath the shades. There’s unease rolling in with the tide, uncertainty shifting with the sands. A question burns Blake’s tongue, but she bites it back, forces it down.

Later, Blake decides, and she lets her hand drift to the side, fingers tangling themselves up with Yang’s without looking, without drawing any attention. Yang’s lips twitch, but otherwise grants no other recognition; she simply accepts it. 

//

At night, Blake and Yang had gotten somewhat adjusted to sharing a bed. It hadn’t been intentional exactly, but that first night in Atlas found them both exhausted, hard-worn and run down. Blake had fallen into a fitful sleep in her room across the hall, unfamiliar pajamas on her body, a fractured weapon on her bedside table, and a series of images flashing through her mind.

At some point, the blood and the body and the rush of red gets to be too much. Her bare feet find the hardwood floor to be cold, freezing even, but Blake has been cold since they landed—there was ice against her skin, trembling in her muscles. 

She knocked quietly, so quiet she thinks maybe she’s self-sabotaging. She can’t answer if she doesn’t hear. 

Maybe Yang had been listening.

The door swings open only a second later, and Yang is there, looking roughly how Blake feels. Her arms are open, inviting. Blake falls against them, buries her nose into the crook of Yang’s neck, wraps her bare arms around Yang’s back. For the first time since they’d landed, she feels a warmth awakening in her veins, traveling low in her stomach.

“Can I…”

There aren’t really words for this.

Yang takes Blake’s hand and tugs her gently in. Blake smiles at the unspoken invitation, the tender pull towards exactly what she wanted without needing to ask. 

The door shuts, and Yang climbs back beneath the blankets, holds them up for Blake to settle beneath. She does. There’s a moment’s hesitation as Yang lays on her back, eyes on the ceiling, and Blake on her side, eyes on Yang. But Blake has come here for something. Because she needs it. Because she thinks maybe Yang needs it too.

She nudges her way over, forehead pressing into Yang’s bare upper arm, a deep breath drawing Yang closer to her, holding her in her lungs, letting the oxygen be tainted with her so it would mix in with her blood, travel through to her heart. 

In a singular motion, Yang raises her arm and Blake moves in, settles her head on Yang’s chest. Without meaning to, her eyes slip shut and she forms a small “hm” that edges past her lips, vibrates in her chest. Yang pulls her a little closer, a bit further. 

For hours she’s been freezing into her very bones. Now sun soaks through, ignites within her.

It’d started unspoken, and that was largely how it remained. 

Weiss and Ruby didn’t question it. So, neither did Blake and Yang. It was easier to sleep this way, Blake reasoned after the third night. The nightmares...they faded so much more quickly when she woke up already pressed against Yang.

On the island is no different. 

Ghira sets up a cot in the room for them, adds on a throw pillow to make it cozier even, but Blake ignores its existence entirely the first night and each one following. 

As has become routine, Yang slips beneath the sheets first, and Blake follows. It was natural, easy, and even though it occasionally leads to reddened cheeks and uncertain glances first thing in the morning, it was something too deeply craved for either of them to fight against.

Yang’s hand trails over Blake’s back, fingers pressed against the ridges of her spine. Blake draws a swirling pattern on Yang’s stomach, skin exposed from her shirt riding up. These are some of the few moments where they manage to find peace. It was their only opportunity to feel like they can breathe, like maybe the world would keep on turning just so they could exist within it. 

“What do you think that was all about today?” Blake starts, and Yang’s fingers stumble for a second, stuttering in place before continuing.

The room is dark, and Blake knows she can see Yang much better than Yang can see her. To grant the freedom of an illusion of secrets and allow the darkness to cloak them both in it’s empty, shadowed grasp, Blake keeps her eyes downcast.

There’s a heavy silence, one that does not dissipate as Yang’s touch impresses itself further, holds Blake closer. 

Yang sighs, cheek pressing into the top of Blake’s head. “That whole thing had Raven written all over it.”

Blake freezes while Yang holds steady, caressing, soothing. 

“As in…”

“The one and only,” Yang answers as Blake’s question trails off. The silence swallows them, chokes them down even though they aren’t meant to be there, an imposter forcing its way through. 

“How...how was meeting her?” Blake asks finally, eyes slipping shut from the repetitive drawings carved out along her skin, the etchings burning away on her flesh.

There’s a scoff, and Yang pulls Blake closer against her. “Maybe what I expected?” she confesses to the bare walls, answers to the wind that brushes by outside. “The...why I wanted to find her had changed, you know? So it didn’t-” Yang blows out a harsh breath, her free hand running up and tangling in her hair. “It was different than what I used to dream about, but...it went how I expected.”

“That good, huh?” 

Yang’s laughter shakes against Blake’s side. “I don’t get why she would help us, though.”

“What makes you think it’s her at all?”

“I don’t know,” she says with more certainty. “I just...with how things left off I guess maybe I’ve just been on edge waiting for her to show up again.”

That whole night had been such a blur, a total rush. When the story of the last several months had been relayed to Blake and that fateful night was described from start to finish, Yang just said she’d gotten to where the relic is held to find it barren. Just an open door and a waiting relic remaining. 

“Because she gave you the lamp?”

“How do you-”

Blake lifts her head to stare at Yang and drawls out a “Seriously?” Yang’s mouth open and closes. “You aren’t a very good liar.”

“Am too.”

She sticks her tongue out at Blake in a desperate attempt for lightness, for ease, but when their eyes meet a moment later she just looks _sad_. “It was never Vernal.”

“What?”

“Vernal wasn’t the Spring Maiden.” The admission takes a physical piece of Yang on the way out; it draws something from her shoulders, leeches it through her muscles.

The revelation connects in time. “So that means…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” 

Blake lays back down, her cheek pressed against the pillow as she rests her forehead against Yang, nose pressed to cheek. “And the lamp?”

“I convinced her to let me take it.” Blake doesn’t need to ask how; Yang offers it up. “She didn’t want the target on her back. I knew that.”

“And?” It’s a prompt for what Blake already senses is there.

Yang turns her head, presses their foreheads together, lets Blake’s exhales wash over her face with warmth. She shuts her eyes against it, pushes closer, further, deeper. 

“And she didn’t care if there was one on mine.”

//

There’s still laughter on the edge of Blake’s lips as she steps inside from sparring practice, sweat dripping down her back and cheeks flushed red from exertion. 

Kali looks over from where she stood at the sink, eyes previously fixed out the window and on the group of women somewhere between sparring and messing around.

“Hey, Mom.” Blake opens the fridge, grabbing four water bottles and setting them on the counter to twist the cap off her own, greedily drinking half the bottle in a few gulps. When she sets it back down her mom has eyes fixed on her, regarding her with more warmth than Blake is expecting after they’ve destroyed at least one and a half flower beds and maybe the edge of the deck railing. “What?”

“It seems like you get along well with your team,” she says, looking back out the window as Ruby loudly declares, “That is _cheating!_ ” followed by laughter.

Blake watches with her, unable to keep from smiling as Ruby grabs ahold of Crescent Rose, the large scythe towering over her as she taunts Weiss, promising that two can play the cheating game.

“Hand to hand combat only!” Yang shouts, stomping her way out to snatch the weapons from Weiss and Ruby’s hands. She looks back to the house and finds Blake, makes a point of dramatically rolling her eyes to the point that Blake can’t help but laugh, shaking her head.

“You seem close with them,” Kali comments, not watching the transition into fighting stances of Weiss and Ruby but straight past them to where Yang sits on the railing, feet propped on the rung beneath her. “And like they treat you well.”

“Of course,” Blake says on instinct. But she gets it; she always gets it. There would be no leaving her past behind, no forgetting why her mom watched her with cautious eyes, touched her with gentle hands. There was always the possibility that the Blake in front of them would fade away like a copy, here one minute and gone the next—drifting, fading, taken. “They’re...I belong with them.”

There’s a quiet hum of acknowledgment from beside her before they’re interrupted by Ruby securing a hit against Weiss before quickly falling back, hands over her eyes as she squeaked in surprise. 

“And what about Yang?”

Whatever redness had faded from Blake’s immediately rushes back, blood staining the skin like an answer on display. “She’s my partner,” Blake says with as little emotion as possible, cut and dry, plain and simple. Partners are there for each other. They look out for each other. They would do anything for each other. You had to trust the person you worked most closely with. “We work well together.”

“And?” Kali prompts, turning from their view to look at her daughter, raising her eyebrows in anticipation of a response.

“And my friend.”

“And?” 

Blake’s gaze jumps to Yang who’s now standing on the deck railing, screaming like a madwoman as Ruby and Weiss carry on a somewhat legitimate match, dodges and blows almost equal between the two. When she looks back to her mom, the smile is still tugging against her lips, pulling something loose, setting it free. “And she’s the best partner I could have asked for.”

Kali’s arm falls around Blake’s shoulder, pulls her into her side for a hug. “I like her a lot,” she whispers quietly, even though there’s no one else nearby to hear. “She complements you.”

In the name of secrets and confessions, Blake turns against her mother and, with lips just beside her ear says, “I like her too.”

//

For a trip that was never meant to be more than five days in length, the two weeks they end up staying there seem to fly by. The contacts they make are by no means solving anything, but they were baby steps in the right direction, a hope to be some amount closer. 

The morning before they leave, Blake gets up early, now used to finding Yang gone already. There were few days where she slept late, seeming to rise with the sun. Meanwhile, Blake could just burrow herself back beneath the covers and doze off another hour, or two, or straight through to lunch.

She gets up, fingers running through her shortened hair. The door to Ruby and Weiss’s room is still shut though she can hear them talking, bickering about packing it sounds like. 

Downstairs, Blake hears her dad’s voice first. Next, there’s Yang’s laughter as it fills the air, collects its way right into Blake, settles in place of sleepiness, in favor of worry. 

“And then,” her dad is saying, his own wheezing laughter joining in, “Oh god, and then she just fixes us with this stubborn look—that one! You can still imitate it, Kali.” They’re all laughing so hard that Blake can imagine the tears that must be running down their faces, the bright red tainting their cheeks. She almost doesn’t even mind that her dad is undoubtedly sharing some embarrassing story from her childhood. “Does she still make that face?” he asks Yang now.

“I wish!” Yang chimes in, chuckling low. “Her comments will cut you more than her looks these days.”

Okay, this bonding needed to be broken up.

“She always was that way,” Kali is saying and for all the joy that had been present a minute ago the sadness dredges its way back to the surface, a reminder that her sins could be forgiven but their impacts never forgotten. “Such a sassy little kid. Total troublemaker. She didn’t like anyone telling her what to do.”

Not even her parents.

So she ran away. And then she did everything she was told. For acceptance, for approval, for safety. And she never just came home. 

For some reason, they didn’t hate her. For some reason, she always expected they would.

“She knows what’s important to her,” Yang says now. “She’ll fight for those things. She...she will face her demons if it means protecting what matters most.”

The voices drop now that there isn’t laughter to speak over, now that the mood is somber. Blake steps forward on the balls of her feet, careful and quiet and completely eavesdropping. 

“I sense the same about you,” Ghira directs towards Yang. “I hope my daughter is included on your list as much as I know you are on hers.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence, and it would be easier to be further from this room, to never have heard the words at all, to not be waiting in this tight, unrelenting silence. Or to be there and say “Dad!” with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, play it off like it doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course,” Yang answers and her voice drops just a little more as she says, “she’s right at the top. I would do anything for her.” Blake’s parents don’t know how true that is, but it is evident in how the sunlight reflects off of Yang’s right arm, proof layered in the trembling of her left, sincerity at the bottom of a river. Anything.

There are a hundred different responses her parents could offer, but instead, Kali just says, “We’re glad she has you.”

Blake tiptoes her way back upstairs and climbs beneath the comforter, giving herself a few more minutes to consider all the different ways you can have a person, what it means to be at the top.

It’s only a few minutes because the next thing Blake knows Yang has jumped onto the end of the bed, bobbing up and down a few times until Blake laughs, swatting Yang away before pulling her close, letting Yang settle on top of her for just a minute. 

“Hey, Blake,” she says not long after, with hot breath collecting against Blake’s neck.

“Yeah?”

“I guess your parents aren’t so scary.”

“Told you.”

“They really love you.”

Simple facts. Basic truths. She had shut them out, and they had welcomed her back without preamble, no questions asked. Things could have gone so differently; not everyone is so quick to forgive; not everyone offers their love so effortlessly. Some kids had to fight for it. Some never found it. Blake’s heart shudders in her chest, and she brushes Yang’s hair to the side, lightly presses her lips against the exposed skin of her neck. 

“I know.”

Yang lifts her head so she’s hovering over Blake, bright gold hair falling on either side, dusting along Blake’s shoulders. Yang’s lips part like she has more to say, but no words come. Her eyes scan over Blake’s face, caught on her lips before finding her stare and holding it. “Blake, I-”

Blake cuts her off, leaning up to close the barely existent distance and pressing her lips firmly against Yang’s, finding them ready, welcoming, warm. She kisses her now before there could be interruption, before the rest of the world could remind them of precedence. 

You’re at the top of mine too, Blake wants to whisper as her fingers tangle their way through Yang’s hair.

They pull apart, and Yang’s tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, like she could taste where Blake had been. “Where did that come from?” she asks even though they both knew this had been building, even though they felt the inevitability in every grazing touch, every lingering moment. It was carried loosely between them in how their fingers twisted together, tucked beside them in bed each night. 

“My parents hated Adam,” Blake says in a rush. “From the beginning. They told me...they said he didn’t value me as he should.” She releases a rush of air, the pressure building all at once, the tension at getting these words out. “They were right. You know, obviously.”

“Blake, what do you-”

“I heard,” she confesses so easily, unable to stop the smile that falls on her lips. “Top of the list,” she says urgently, trying not to let the worry or fear or uncertainty consume, to keep her expression carefully neutral. 

There’s only a moment before the recognition registers. “Top of the list,” Yang whispers like a vow, her smile a promise, the fingers twisting at the ends of Blake’s hair a guarantee. 

Their lips meet again, and it’s an oath, a sweet affirmation. A future. 

When they pull apart, Yang leans her forehead against Blake’s, smiles down at her. “So I have to know…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still make the face?”

Yang does a poor imitation of what Kali had shown her in the kitchen, the ridiculous expression is wiped clean as Blake pushes Yang off of her, the moment lost to laughter. 

“You can feel free to shut the fuck up,” Blake says, going to climb from the bed. They had packing to do, a flight to prepare for. 

Yang grabs a fistful of Blake’s pajama shirt and drags her back over, mischievousness written all over her face. “You can feel free to make me.” Her eyebrows do this ridiculous up and down motion, and Blake is laughing all over again so she does.

“Ew, guys!” Ruby shouts from the doorway.

“Seriously?” Weiss asks, voice shrill as her hands fix themselves onto her hips. “We have to leave in an hour, and you’re both still in your pajamas? In bed? Making out?”

“Say that louder, please,” Blake says as Yang grabs a pillow and chucks it in their direction. 

“I’m not about to miss our flight so you two can-”

Blake jumps up and grabs her open and empty duffel on top of the rumpled sheets. “We’re packing, okay? Just...shh.”

For all of Weiss’s annoyance, she softens for a split second, smiling at them both. “Hurry up. I want to get coffee before we have to board.”

They walk away with Ruby shooting Yang a very obvious thumbs up before going. 

“I guess maybe we _should_ pack,” Yang says, standing up and stretching, hands reaching overhead, joints popping. 

The concept sounds less than fun to Blake, as she looks to the closet where her clothes of the last several days lay on the floor in disarray. “That sounds…” She shoots the look her mom had undoubtedly been talking about in the kitchen, face screwing up in displeasure, nose scrunching.

Yang breaks immediately, laughing so hard she’s grabbing her stomach as she falls back onto the bed. Blake falls beside her, making the executive decision that two more minutes wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was almost longer, but I decided for everyone's sake involved it was time to stop haha. I hope you liked it! The Belladonnas growing to love Yang gives me a lot of feels, okay? Let me know what you think!


End file.
